


Three Strokes of a Brush

by hexburn (thestormapproaches)



Series: the little things [12]
Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Nail Polish, Painting, calm fluff, could be seen as pre-slash, rekky's nails look goooooood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29577042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestormapproaches/pseuds/hexburn
Summary: There's a weird smell in the gaming house, and for once, Marcin is not the source of it. So where is that chemical scent coming from?Mihael finds out, and finds a little moment of peace along the way.
Relationships: Martin "Rekkles" Larsson/Mihael "Mikyx" Mehle
Series: the little things [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1672183
Comments: 1
Kudos: 39





	Three Strokes of a Brush

**Author's Note:**

> a quick little nail-painting thing!

It’s the smell that Mihael first notices. Chemical, acrid, nose-stinging- he doesn’t know what it is, but the scent permeates their apartments, even through the walls. Curiously, though, there’s nothing in the kitchen or office that would explain the smell,

Mihael wanders around, following his nose to the gaming room, where a slender, blond-haired, tattoo-sleeved man sits and pokes tediously at something in his lap.

“Martin?”

“Oh! Hey Miky,” Martin answers, not turning at all from his task for a few seconds. “What’s up?” Finally, he turns to face Mihael with a bright smile. There’s a brush in one of his hands, the other splayed wide.

“Nothing. What are you doing?”

“Painting my nails,” Martin says simply.

“Oh.”

Rather than stand in the doorway, Mihael eventually sits down next to Martin - though, he’s careful to not get too close. He’s messed up his sisters’ nail polish enough when they were young, and he would hate to ruin Martin’s careful, deliberate work. Thankfully, Martin doesn’t seem to mind that he’s there. “You’re sure you don’t need anything?”

“No. Nothing’s going on, was just wondering what the smell was.”

“Oh! Right, I forgot it stinks,” Martin chuckles, “sorry about that. I can open a window next time if it isn’t too cold.”

“It’s fine,” Mihael murmurs. “Doesn’t smell awful, just didn’t know what it was.”

Martin hums to let Mihael know he’s paying attention, but doesn’t say anything else, and Mihael watches the brush slide smoothly over each of Martin’s nails, leaving a lusciously wet trail of darkness in its one-two-three-stroke wake. He can see why Martin would enjoy this process. It’s rhythmic and soothing, even when Mihael himself isn’t doing the painting.

“Want me to paint yours?”

Mihael shakes himself aware. He can’t say the thought has never crossed his mind. His sisters would have liked to paint his nails if they weren’t so worried about running out, but alas their polishes were highly limited, and Mihael didn’t want painted nails enough to do it himself and take from his sisters. His hands are steadier now, and running out of polish is no longer a financial worry for him... “Sure,” Mihael answers. “But- do you have a less noticeable colour?” Going all-out with the black nail polish might be a bit much, a bit fast.

As though he anticipated Mihael’s worry, Martin just smiles that small, sweet smile. “Yeah, I can paint them clear. Or baby pink, but I’d have to get the polish from my apartment.”

“Clear works. Do you want help painting yours?”

“Sure, if you don’t mind,” Martin says as he flicks the brush over his pinky finger. “It’s hard to paint my dominant hand. Here.” He holds out the brush, which Mihael happily takes, and then holds out his other hand, which Mihael also gently holds.

In silence, Mihael holds Martin’s hand, fingers gentle and cool. Martin’s fingers are slim, almost bony but not quite. They’re good for holding.

Mihael tries to not think about that too much.

The brush slips by each nail by nail, slow and steady. Mihael’s hands aren’t as bad as they used to be, with the shaking and all, and so Martin’s nails each fall under Mihael’s brush and emerge with a new layer of shiny lacquer.

It’s a peaceful sort of silence.

And it continues as Martin applies clearcoat to Mihael’s nails, and Mihael paints a topcoat onto Martin’s nails, and the smell of fresh nail polish follows Mihael all day.

The scent is slightly unpleasant, but Mihael doesn’t mind. Black nail polish on pretty, slender fingers looks nice next to clear, anyway.


End file.
